Better Late
by SkippingSteppingStones
Summary: Padmé's ship is not damaged as badly, and she and the Jedi manage to make it to Coruscant without a stopover on Tatooine. Years later, she meets a slave named Anakin, and his young son.


Trigger warnings: referenced sexual abuse, slavery

Headcanons: Autistic Force-sensitives

AUs: Anakin and Padmé meet later in life, when each has had a child. Anakin and Luke had remained in slavery until they met.

Update Schedule: This is going to be a series of oneshots in the same universe. They're not gonna be in any real order, and if there's any moments you'd like to see in particular, just leave a request in the comments!

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She was beautiful, Anakin thought. Padmé stood before him, her hair tousled by the wind, strands whipping around her face, and the frizz of its curls making it seem as if the sun shone from her smile.

"You're a fast learner," she said, dropping her helmet on her speeder bike.

He shrugged slightly. He was still lost in the beauty of her smile, the warmth of the day. "It's not so different from podracing."

"I think that's all I have to teach you," she told him. He watched as her hands fell back to her speeder's handlebars, and she began to guide it back to the garage. "If you want, you could learn some of the finer skills from my teacher. I've been too busy with work for lessons, recently."

He was amazed how lucky he'd been. Her voice was like sunshine, and her laughter like water. Her smile took some of the pain away, and her joy was infectious. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and kind, and most importantly, she _loved_ him. She loved him, and loved his son, and had chosen to bring them into her life.

He followed her, watching as she directed her bike to its resting spot, stepping aside to allow him to replace his as well.

The children were off at school, so they'd decided to go out on the speeder bikes. Anakin hadn't had much more to learn from her, even at the beginning of their ride, but he loved watching her fly almost as much as he loved flying himself. She'd showed him the last tricks she knew, and they'd flown together.

He wondered if this was what it was to fall in love. It was something he'd only really heard rumors of. He knew some slaves fell in love, but it hadn't happened to him. His mother had said he had no father, so he supposed it had been the same for her.

When he looked at Padmé, though, all those feelings he'd never been able to imagine seemed to be bubbling in his chest. At first, he had been anxious that it had only been thanks to gratitude, but now she was walking across the garage, dropping her helmet on a workbench, and he left his bike to follow her.

He loved her in some sense, that he was sure of. A nebulous feeling of love had been present since the day she'd looked at his son and declared that no child deserved slavery. But now that love was awkward in new ways. It had lost some of its reverence to her distress over that worshipfulness, but now he felt too large around her, with too many limbs to know what to do with.

Around his masters, his height had never mattered, like nothing else about him mattered. He was only meant to fall into the background, which was easy enough to achieve.

With Padmé, he was too tall. He towered over her, and felt as if his head was practically in the clouds whenever the kids were around. His hands fidgeted, and he stumbled over his own feet.

Now he followed her like a lost baby bird, eager not to let her out of sight. She was beautiful, and he _loved_ her…

She fell comfortably into the sofa, pulling her hair from a messy bun to fall over its arm.

Uncertainly, he perched himself at the opposite edge of the sofa, watching hungrily for a moment before redirecting his gaze to his hands. It'd been a while since he felt this awkward, he thought, hunching his shoulders and attempting to be smaller.

He'd envied Luke for his small size before, he thought with a rueful smile.

"You seem pensive," Padmé said, and Anakin's gaze leapt back to her.

"I… I just…"

She smiled at him, and he felt himself blush and wished he could gracefully hide it.

"I'm gonna go make Luke's bed."

It was a stupid excuse, and he knew it. His son was perfectly capable of making his own bed, and usually did it on his own. But now he was up, and making a beeline out of the room to the one he and his son shared.

He ran up the stairs two at a time, pushing their door open, and closing it after himself with half a mind to lock it.

 _You're over reacting_ , he told himself. He sat down on Luke's bed, lifting a toy that sat on his pillow. Sure enough, Luke had made his bed as usual before school.

"I'm probably being stupid," he told the stuffed animal, petting its fur with a shaking hand. "I mean… It's not like she'd want _me_."

The toy had been one of the first things Padmé had bought Luke upon their purchase. To a rich senator, the gift had been nothing, a whim. Seeing Luke's distress at being taken from his home, she'd provided him with something to hold onto so he could stay calm. When Anakin had managed to calm him enough to accept the gift, Luke had been in awe, and declared it the softest thing in the galaxy.

"She's just being kind," he told the toy. "She was worried about Luke, but she knew separating us would hurt him. She's just trying to make the best of-,"

He broke off. He wasn't sure what he thought she was trying to make the best of. The stranger she'd accepted into her home? The presence of a grown man with no future in sight? Her strange new companion.

He joined her on missions, and helped care for her daughter. He wasn't _fully_ useless, he tried to reassure himself. "Leia likes me," he told the toy uncertainly, shifting it so it tipped its head at him. "And Padmé likes my cooking, if nothing else." He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I should just be honest with her," he mumbled, cracking an eye open at it. As if it could confirm. "Even from someone like me, it's a compliment…"

There was a rap at the door, and Anakin looked up sharply, scrambling to his feet, and haphazardly ripping back the sheets so he could busy himself with re-tucking them before answering.

"Yeah!"

The door cracked open, and a soft brown eye peeked through the crack. Anakin looked up worriedly, finishing tucking the blankets back around Luke's pillow, and replacing his stuffed toy.

"You can come in," he said, uncertain. Her hair had fallen into her face when she'd leaned to the crack, and he self-consciously reached up to brush back a strand of his own. He didn't want to exit their room just yet, and rejoin her world. Here, he was safe. It was a haven he and his son had built, paradise to a pair of slaves. Out there, the world was undoubtedly Padmé's, and his awkwardness was magnified tenfold.

She slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open, and came towards him. She was stepping lightly, cautious of his fear again, and he shrank in shame, slinking back to sit down on his own bed.

"Are you alright?" she asked, carefully perching next to him.

Anakin couldn't bring himself to look at her. He folded his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers around one another, thinking that he'd only managed to move a conversation he wasn't ready for about forty feet.

"Before Luke was born," he murmured, still looking at his hands, "I was trying to plan a way to escape. I wanted to take his mother and run. She knew about it, but she never really thought it'd work."

Padmé's hand fell between his shoulder blades, and he leapt, relaxing again as she winced too, before delicately resuming.

"When he was born, it became obvious it could never work. Before, she couldn't run, and after, they were both too delicate. Even after she'd recovered, I was afraid of what might happen to Luke if we failed." He swallowed, folding his hands together. "When she was sold, I guess I finally accepted I'd never be able to give him anything better. She was his mother, and she'd loved him, but she'd decided that if one of us had to leave him, it should be her.

"After that, I just wanted him to be safe moment-to-moment. I taught him to walk, to eat solid foods, and then the skills our masters demanded. I knew we'd be separated one day, and I wanted him to be ready. I never thought someone would help us."

Padmé offered him her free hand, and he accepted it uncertainly, grasping it tightly. Her skin was soft, smooth with the lack of hard work. His own felt cracked against it, but she didn't seem to mind, gently squeezing him.

His heart beat faster as she drew him to lean against her shoulder. Slumped as he was, he didn't feel as oversized as usual, and he relaxed against her.

"It'd always been us, trying to make the best of it," he whispered, turning to press his face into her hair, his voice thick. "Slaves did their best to stick together, but at the end of the day, there was no one I could trust to put him first. The masters certainly didn't care."

Padmé put her arms around him, and he finally gasped for breath, clinging to her in turn.

"You were beautiful," he choked, struggling to turn the sob into laughter, "I thought you were gonna kill Luke, but you helped him. You helped _us."_

"He was just playing with Leia," Padmé said reasonably, slowly petting his hair.

Anakin leaned back, coughing. "You think that would've mattered to another master? They'd have punished him without batting an eye."

"I'd never do that to you," she promised. She met his eyes, and he dared to stare, falling into their soft darkness.

"I know," he said. "And…" the words were hard to summon, "I think I love you more than I'd realized."

At his words, she blushed, and he hurriedly scrambled back, folding his arms across his chest protectively. He wasn't trying to impose, it was only that she was beautiful, and kind, and he could have never _dreamed_ of anyone so innately good.

"I think," she said, looking away, and half-hiding her face as she rubbed it with her palm, stretching her features, before peeking out from behind it, "I might like you, too."

He startled, unfolding his arms, "Really?"

She giggled, and he couldn't help laughing back, wiping away an errant tear.

"Yes! It's not the reason I saved you, of course, but… you're very handsome." She was still covering her face, and Anakin let out a proper laugh, taking his pillow, and holding it up for her to hide behind.

She laughed again, accepting it, and burying her lower face in it, only her eyes peeking out over top.

"And I thought you were very brave, protecting Luke like that."

He smiled, uncertainly, just watching her, loving her for the way she laughed, the way she hid so bashfully, and the strength he knew she contained.

"You're a good father," she told him.

"And I couldn't imagine a better mother," he answered. He reached out, uncertain, and she slowly lowered the pillow to her lap, taking his hand. "Everything I did for Luke, I didn't have a choice in, but you…"

"You loved him," she offered. "When it would have been easier not to."

"Yeah," Anakin said, "But my mother loved me, I can't take credit for that."

"And you've been a good to Leia ever since you met her," Padmé said.

"Forget parenting, then," he said, poking her chest with one finger, "You've given me everything. You helped me fly again."

She swatted him aside, "You gave me free time."

"By taking care of Leia? That was a gift _you_ gave _me_."

She smiled fondly at him, sinking into a dreamy expression for a moment, before she blinked, shaking herself out of it.

"I can't remember the last time I kissed someone," she said.

Anakin felt himself redden. "You? Who wouldn't want to-," he cut himself off, unable to hold her gaze anymore, and dropping his, feeling as though his head was about to burst into flames.

She leaned forwards, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad the feeling is mutual."

He laughed, and for a sudden, gleeful moment, his anxiety was silent, and he drew her against himself, feeling her warmth and weight as he pulled her onto his lap. For a second, anxiety tried to tug him back down, reminding him that his muscles were those of a slave, grown by cruelty for hard labour, not affection, but he battled it down.

Padmé didn't see it that way. She was laughing, folding her arms over his and leaning her head back so hair cascaded over his shoulder. As her hair fell back, her ear was uncovered, and Anakin quickly leaned in to kiss it, nuzzling her affectionately.

"I've never really kissed anyone before," he admitted, resting in contented silence. "Just goodnight kisses for Luke. You smell better than him."

Padmé smiled, turning so her nose brushed his, "He's five, let him play."

"Next you'll tell me you shower in some kind of perfume," Anakin teased. He'd been the one to buy her perfume, more than once. He knew its packaging and scent, but it still seemed somewhat unreal to him. His own mother had usually smelled of oil and hurried cooking, and it had been the homiest scent in the galaxy. But Padmé smelled like flowers, and rain, and sunbaked soil, like the beauty of her planet.

That was the scent of a mother, to Leia's eyes.

Anakin wondered what smells he tracked home for his son to associate with comfort. Probably much the same as his mother had.

"I never thought I'd fall in love," he said, cradling her in his arms, and starting to rock slowly. "Malkia was beautiful and kind, but she was never more than a friend."

"It wasn't a good situation for falling in love," Padmé agreed, and Anakin trembled as she reached up to cup his head, before drawing herself to him for a kiss. Uncertain, he leaned into it, trying to stay calm as her lips met his.

She tasted like breakfast cereal and fruit. Her breath in his mouth, he exhaled slowly, pulling back and just holding her.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'll do anything for you, I swear. Anything you want."

He wanted to please her, wanted her to stay in love with him.

"You don't have to do anything for me," she answered, and Anakin shifted carefully until he leaned against the head of his bed, the senator still leaning against his chest.

"We have some time before the kids get home," he mumbled uncertainly. He felt bashful, dying not to presume, but desperate for her touch. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

"It's been a bit of a long day, hasn't it," she said, and Anakin hesitantly let her go, and watched as she arranged herself comfortably on the blankets next to him. She was beautiful and gentle, and he didn't want to miss a single second of it-

But he was tired. He hadn't slept well, his dreams spattered with echoes of slavery, and an unbidden longing for his mother.

He laid down next to her, drawing a blanket over both of them, and sighed in happiness as she curled against his chest, and closed her eyes.

"You really do trust me," he whispered, laying his arm over her.

She only gave a small nod, draping her arm over him in return, her eyes still closed.

 _Just sleep, now_ , the actions seemed to say. And Anakin obeyed.


End file.
